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IN COMMEMORATION OF 



DOCTOR CASPAR WISTAR. 



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IN COMMEMORATION OF 



DOCTOR CASPAR WISTAR, 

LATE PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY HELD AT PHILA- 
DELPHIA FOR PROMOTING USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE SOCIETY, 

PURSUANT TO THEIR APPOINTMENT, IN THE GERMAN LUTHERAN CHURCH IN 
FOURTH STREET, IN THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA, ON THE 11TH DAY OF 
MARCH, 1818. 



BY THE HON. WILLIAM TILGHMAN, 

CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF PENN- 
SYLVANIA, ONE OF THE YICE PRESIDENTS OF THE SOCIETY. 



PUBLISHED BY ORDER, 




PHILADELPHIA.-^ 
PUBLISHED BY E. EARLE, 

CORNER OF FOURTH AND LIBRARY STREETS. 

J. Maxwell, printer, 

1818. 



M a meeting of the American Philosophical So- 
ciety, held this evening, it was resolved unanimously, 
that the thanks of the Society be presented to Chief- 
justice Tilghman,for his eloquent Eulogium on their 
late lamented president Dr. Caspar Wistar, in which 
he has so faithfully expressed the feelings of the So- 
ciety. 

It was also resolved that he be respectfully request- 
ed to furnish a copy, to be published under the direc- 
tion of the Society. 

A true Extract from the Minutes. 

R. M. PATTERSON, Secretary, 
March Uth, 1818. 



AN EULOGIUM, <£c 



Gentlemen of the Philosophical Society, 
Fellow Citizens, Friends — 

IF your wishes or mine had availed, we should 
not have been assembled on this solemn occasion. For, 
surely, never was life more earnestly desired, never 
death more sincerely regretted, than that of the ex- 
cellent person, whose character I am called upon to 
delineate. Witness the alarm which pervaded the 
city, on the first intelligence of his illness — the friends 
who thronged his house, with anxious inquiries while 
hope remained, and departed in silent sorrow when 
the despairing bulletin announced the approaching 
crisis — Witness the long procession, which, through 
crowded streets, followed his mortal remains to their 



8 

last abode. But it was the will of God, that he should 
die, and to that will we submit. The American Phi- 
losophical Society, have not assembled, for the pur- 
pose of indulging rebellious murmurs or vain regrets. 
No — they better understand their duty. But deeply 
impressed with the merit of their deceased president, 
they have resolved, that his talents and his virtues 
shall be held up to public view. To him, indeed, this 
is now of no concern. The breath of praise, so sweet 
to the living, no longer reaches him. But in a world 
abounding in temptation, it is necessary that men 
should be stimulated to virtue, not only by the ex- 
ample of the dead, but by the hope of posthumous 
honour. For, such is our nature, that we are power- 
fully incited by the desire of fame, even after death. 
It has been thought wise, therefore, by most nations, 
and particularly by the ancient republics, to pro- 
nounce Eulogies on the meritorious dead. If wise 
in them, it is no less so in us. Indeed, we have more 
need of this custom, than they; because, from the 
nature of our government, we have fewer artificial 
excitements to noble actions. We admit of no per- 
manent honours, either personal or hereditary. But 
the ancient republics had both. We are not without 
danger of becoming too exclusively, the votaries of 



wealth, often acquired by sordid and ignoble con- 
duct. It behoves us, therefore, to counteract this 
overwhelming influence, by refusing it any weight 
in the estimation of character. This can be in 
no way better done, than by fixing a standard in 
which wealth shall be no ingredient. And in the 
formation of this standard, posthumous Eulogium 
will be a powerful engine. Wealth will no longer be 
thought praiseworthy, when it has ceased to be an 
object of praise, I am aware of the opinion of a 
celebrated Roman historian, that this kind of eulogy, 
although productive of much good, had an evil ten- 
dency, in corrupting the truth of history. But this 
will depend on the use which is made of it. If em- 
ployed for the purpose of lavishing indiscriminate, or 
unjust encomium, it will be an evil; if judiciously 
used, a good. By our Society, this honour has cer- 
tainly been dispensed, not only with sound judgment, 
but with a frugal hand. We shall not be accused of 
corrupting historical integrity, when it is known that 
but three Eulogies have hitherto been pronounced by 
our order; and that the objects of these three were 
Franklin, Rittenhouse, and Priestley. Indeed, it has 
been the opinion of many, and particularly of him, 
whose virtues we are about to commemorate, that we 



10 

have been too sparing of just applause. At the last 
meeting of the Society which he attended, he ex- 
pressed his regret that many of our associates had 
been suffered to sink into unmerited oblivion. In 
this sentiment he was perfectly disinterested; for he 
was then in full possession of health and spirits, lit- 
tle thinking that at the very next meeting, his bre- 
thren would be occupied with the mournful care of 
decreeing to him that honour of which he was 
worthy in the judgment of all. I much fear that I 
shall be unable to do him justice. Indeed, when I 
reflect that he was eminent in a profession, of which 
I pretend not to be a competent judge, I feel con- 
scious that the honourable task assigned to me would 
have been better performed by several distinguished 
members who have moved in the same sphere. In 
one qualification, however, I am not deficient — in 
zeal for the memory of a man whom I loved and 
admired. At all events, I felt myself obliged to obey 
the will of the Society, and trusting to their candour, 
I shall endeavour faithfully to portray the charac- 
ter of our departed brother. 

Doctor Caspar Wistar had the good fortune to 
descend from ancestors in whom he beheld exam- 
ples worthy of imitation. His paternal grandfather, 



11 

Caspar Wistar, emigrated from the dominions of the 
Elector Palatine of Germany, and arrived at Phila- 
delphia in the year 1717. He was a man of strong 
intellect, and applied his life to useful purposes. By 
his exertions was established in New Jersey, about 
thirty miles from Philadelphia, a manufacture of 
glass, supposed to have been the first in North Ame- 
rica. His maternal grandfather, Bartholomew Wyatt, 
emigrated from England with his wife, not long after 
William Penn commenced the settlement of Pennsyl- 
vania. He lived not far from Salem in New Jersey, 
and was active and distinguished in the affairs of his 
day, both civil and religious. His father was remark- 
ed for firmness of character, and paid particular at- 
tention to the morals and religion of his children. 

Wistar himself was born in Philadelphia, the 
13th of September, 1761. As his parents and an- 
cestors, on both sides, were of the religious Society 
of Friends, he was brought up in their principles, 
and received his classical education, at a school es- 
tablished by them in this city. I have been able to 
discover nothing very uncommon in his juvenile 
character. In quickness of apprehension he was sur- 
passed by several of his companions; but what he 
undertook he never failed to accomplish by persever- 



ance. That he was a good scholar, may be inferred 
from the knowledge of the Greek and Latin lan- 
guages, which he was afterwards known to possess. 
Until the age of sixteen, his faculties were expanding; 
but the peculiar cast of his genius had not been de- 
veloped. About that period occurred an event, which 
called forth the ruling passion, and decided his fate. 
This event was the battle of Germantown, in the year 
1777. His religious principles kept him out of battle, 
but his humanity led him to seek the wounded sol- 
dier, and he was active in assisting those who were 
administering relief. His benevolent heart was af- 
fected by their sufferings; and so deeply was he 
struck with the happy effects of the medical art, that 
he determined to devote his life to a profession form- 
ed to alleviate the miseries of mankind. Conquerors 
and heroes — ye who delight in the shout of battle, 
and exult in the crimson field of victory, contemplate 
the feelings of this young man, and blush at the con- 
trast! But let us adore the mercy of God, whose 
mysterious Providence produces good from evil. 
From the decay of matter, springs up the green 
herb and the purple flower. From the disasters of 
Germantown, arises a youth, destined to bind up 
the wounds of many, and to send forth from his 



13 

instructive school, thousands of hands, to open the 
fountains of health throughout the land. 

Firm in his purpose, Wistar applied himself to 
the study of medicine, under doctor John Redman, 
a very respectable physician of this city, formerly 
president of the college of physicians, with whom he 
remained upwards of three years. During the last 
year, he attended also the practice of doctor John 
Jones, an eminent surgeon, who had left New York, 
in consequence of its occupation by the British army. 
It was the fortune of Wistar, to gain the esteem of 
all his preceptors; an infallible mark of his own good 
conduct. The friendship of two such men as Red- 
man and Jones, was a valuable acquisition; and from 
that of Jones, in particular, very important conse- 
quences resulted. Having gone through the usual 
course of study, and attended the medical lectures, 
Wistar offered himself in the year 1782, as a candi- 
date for the degrees of Bachelor of Medicine, in the 
University of Pennsylvania. Previous to the obtain- 
ing of this honour, he underwent an examination in 
the presence of the trustees of the university. It is 
said that he acquitted himself, on that occasion, in 
an extraordinary manner; answering the questions 
proposed to him, with such uncommon promptness 



14 

and precision, as excited the surprise, and command- 
ed the admiration of all who heard him. There was 
a singularity in this examination of which I have 
been informed by a gentleman who was present. 
The faculty of medicine were not all of one theory, 
and each professor examined with an eye to his own 
system; of this Wistar was aware, and had the ad- 
dress to answer each to his complete satisfaction, in 
his own way. Of course the degree was conferred 
on him. 

Instead of entering immediately into the prac- 
tice of medicine, he determined to avail himself of 
the advantages to be found in the schools of London 
and Edinburgh, at that time the first in the world. In 
this, he displayed his usual judgment. It has been 
remarked that, with few exceptions, those who have 
been great in the learned professions, have abstained 
from practice at an early age. The cause is obvious. 
The elements of science lie too deep to be attained, 
without long and patient thought. The mind requires 
retirement and tranquillity, to exert its powers of re- 
flection to their full extent. But these are incompati- 
ble with the bustle, the anxiety, the agitation of active 
life. There was another reason too, formerly of 
great weight, though not so now, for finishing a me-? 



15 

dical education in Europe. Our own schools were in 
their infancy, and he who had been initiated in others 
of so much greater celebrity, carried with him a 
splendour, reflected from the masters under whom he 
had studied. This had appeared in Morgan, Shippen, 
Kuhn, and Rush, too plainly to be overlooked by the 
searching eyes of Wistar. Accordingly he went to 
England, in October, 1783. 

The air of London was unfavourable to his 
health, which compelled him to make frequent ex- 
cursions into the country. But no time was lost by 
these excursions. His investigating mind was busily 
employed in acquiring knowledge of various kinds; 
and his familiar letters, during his abode in England, 
to his friends in America, gave promise of that de- 
voted attachment to science, for which his character 
was afterwards distinguished. 

Having remained a year in England, he repaired 
to Edinburgh, where he passed his time, not like ma- 
ny young men, in frivolous or vicious amusements; 
but in study, in attending lectures, in cultivating the 
friendship of distinguished persons. To act a part 
like this, requires no small share of good sense and 
resolution. But to understand the merit of Wistar, 
it should be known, that in consequence of his fa- 



16 

ther's death, he was easy in his fortune, and un- 
controlled master of his actions. Great is the dan- 
ger to which youth is exposed in populous cities. To 
each is offered the choice of Hercules. The paths of 
pleasure and of virtue lie open before them. False 
steps are not easily retraced; for the diverging paths 
grow wider and wider asunder, until they terminate 
in the opposite extremes of infamy and honour. 

Always intent on improving his opportunities, he 
made a journey on foot, in October 1785, in compa- 
ny with Charles Throgmorton, esq. and Mr. Ellcock, 
of Dublin, through part of the Highlands of Scotland, 
and visited Glasgow, Inverary and Inverness. His 
character was now rising rapidly at Edinburgh. That 
he enjoyed the esteem of the great Cullen, appears 
by a letter, dated January 1786. For two successive 
years he was elected one of the Presidents of the 
Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh. He was elect- 
ed also President of the society " for the further in- 
vestigation of natural history." These honours, con- 
ferred by a great, a learned, and a proud nation, on 
a youth, a stranger, one whose country had but just 
risen into existence, are the surest testimonies of un- 
common merit. We contemplate them not only with 



17 

pleasure, but with pride. Their lustre is reflected 
from the man to the country which gave him birth. 
About the year 1 785, he was received into the 
house of Doctor Charles Stewart, a most respectable 
Physician of Edinburgh with whom he lived, during 
the remainder of the time that he spent in that city. 
Of this favour he was highly sensible. He always 
remembered it with gratitude, and spoke of it with 
pleasure. 

In June 1786, he took his degree of Doctor of 
Medicine in the University of Edinburgh; his Inaugu- 
ral Dissertation, " de Mvmo Demisso" is dedicated to 
Dr. Franklin and Doctor Cullen; the one, at the head 
of philosophy in his own country, the other flourish- 
ing in Scotland in medical fame. Towards the end of 
the year 1786, he took leave of Edinburgh, leaving 
behind him a name long remembered. This is testi- 
fied by his countrymen who visited that city many 
years after. His fame flew before him to his native 
city, where he arrived in January 1 787, after an 
absence of more than three years. 

He was now about to enter upon a new and 
more important scene. Hitherto he had spent his 
time in preparation. A considerable portion of life 
had passed away. It was time to be useful — This 



18 

was the object of his labours, the wish of his heart 
He had formed to himself a sublime idea of his pro- 
fession. Medicine he considered as an art by which 
an individual maybe a benefactor to the universe, and 
confer blessings on unborn generations. To this 
elevation of mind he owed his eminence. For who 
would submit to the toils and privations which lead 
to greatness, without exalted ideas of the prize? 

With talents matured, his mind enriched with the 
fruits of study and experience, he now engaged in 
the practice of medicine with every advantage. His 
friends were numerous, and his fellow-citizens in ge- 
neral disposed to confide in him. Nor was their con- 
fidence disappointed. His old friend and preceptor, 
Doctor Jones, took the most delicate means, of afford- 
ing him an opportunity of making himself known. 
This was all he wanted. His works spoke for them- 
selves. His mind was eminently formed for a pro- 
fession, in which precipitancy is danger, and mistake 
is death. No man ever performed his duty to his 
patients with more scrupulous integrity. He spared 
no pains in collecting all the symptoms from which 
the disease might be ascertained. His visits were 
long, his questions numerous and minute. He paus- 
ed before he decided, but was seldom wrong — and 



19 

his mind once satisfied, he was not easily moved from 
his purpose. In consultation with his brethren he 
was courteous and attentive; never overbearing, but 
always stating, with modest firmness, the result of 
his own reflections. His patients he never failed to 
attach to him. How indeed could it be otherwise, 
when to the sedulous attentions of a Physician, was 
added the sympathy and anxiety of a friend. Though 
much given to hospitality, he never neglected the du- 
ties of his profession. Being eminent, both in medi- 
cine, and surgery, his practice soon became so exten- 
sive, that he was in the habit of walking ten miles 
daily. He would often rise from the convivial table 
to visit his patients, and request his friends to remain 
with his family until his return. Yet the pleasure of 
pleasing others seemed an antidote to fatigue, and 
enabled him, generally, to be the most animated of the 
company. To a man thus acting, success is certain. 
Fortune, who intoxicates the weak, had no power 
over his steady mind. He knew that nothing is 
stationary in life. No man continues great without 
continued labour. All nature is in motion; and he 
who does not advance, will surely recede. By unre- 
mitted exertions, he always kept the ground he had 
gained, and still pressed forward to the pinnacle of 



20 

his profession. His labours were sweetened with 
reward, and his spirit cheered with public favour. 

In the year 1787, he was appointed Physician to 
the Philadelphia Dispensary, a useful and charitable 
institution then recently established. In the same year 
he was elected a member of the college of Physicians, 
and of our society. In 1 788, to his other good for- 
tune was added domestic happiness, by his marriage 
with his first wife, Isabella Marshall, daughter of 
Christopher Marshall of this city. In 1789 he w£s 
elected Professor of Chymistry in the "college of Phi- 
ladelphia." This appointment he did not accept with- 
out great hesitation. Philadelphia had then the mis* 
fortune to be divided between two rival schools; the 
faculty of medicine of the College and that of the 
University of Pennsylvania. He saw and lamented the 
consequences of this division. It was his wish to 
unite, in one great institution, the talents of the city. 
But finding that the period of union had not yet arriv- 
ed, he accepted the professorship offered him by the 
College, in order to preserve an influence, to be exert- 
ed at the proper season, and in this purpose he was 
not disappointed; for he had the satisfaction of contri- 
buting largely to the much desired union, which was 
afterwards effected. 



21 

In 1 790, he was struck with affliction, in the loss 
of a wife whom he tenderly loved. This severe mis- 
fortune, he bore like a Christian, who feels calamity, 
but submits to the dispensations of Providence. Resig- 
nation to the will of the Almighty, and an active 
discharge of worldly duties, are the only sources of 
consolation, in afflictions like this. These were the 
resources of Wistar. He did not then foresee, that 
great as it was, this loss would one day be repaired by 
a companion no less worthy of his affection than the 
one he so justly mourned. 

In the memorable summer of 1 793, when the Phy- 
sicians were the forlorn hope which stood between 
the pestilence and the people, he had nearly lost his life 
— he did not escape the awful visitation, but was for- 
tunate enough to recover from it. In the autumn of" 
the same year, he was chosen Physician to the Penn- 
sylvania Hospital. In that celebrated institution, his 
services were principally in the department of surge- 
ry, where he found ample scope for the exercise of his 
humanity. I have been assured, from unquestionable 
authority, that in attendance on the sick, he knew no 
difference between the rich and the poor. It requires 
no small knowledge of the human heart, no little ex- 
perience in the business of the world, to appreciate 



22 

this trait of character according to its real value. It 
is easy to applaud the conduct of the good Samari- 
tan — we all do it — and the Priest and the Levite, had 
they heard the parable, would have done the same. 
But when brought to the test, they cast their eyes on 
the wounded traveller and passed by. 

The Rival Faculties of medicine being united in 
the University of Pennsylvania, Wistar was elected, 
in January 1792, adjunct Professor of anatomy, 
midwifery, and surgery, with the late Doctor Wm. 
Shippen, one of the fathers of the medical school. 
Surgery and midwifery were afterwards erected into 
several professorships; Shippen and Wistar retained 
anatomy, and on the death of Shippen, in 1808, 
Wistar was placed, as sole Professor, in the anatomi- 
cal chair. 

It was here that the scene of his greatest excel- 
lence was exhibited. In many departments of sci- 
ence he was conspicuous, but here pre-eminent. 
Here he exerted all his genius and strained every fa- 
culty of his mind. His heart and soul were in the ob- 
ject. No pains, no money were spared, to render the 
lecture complete — and he succeeded; for in the opini- 
on of able judges, he might well bear a comparison 
with the most celebrated Professors in existence. In 



23 

language he was sufficiently fluent, and when a little 
excited, even eloquent, and by happy allusions to 
agreeable objects he contrived to scatter flowers over 
a field, not naturally of an inviting aspect. But his great 
aim was to render his demonstrations perfectly intel- 
ligible, and this he always accomplished by dwelling 
upon his subject, until he perceived that it was clear- 
ly understood by his pupils. In the communication 
of his ideas he had a facility never attained but by 
great masters. Too much praise cannot be given 
him for the liberality with which he provided the ne- 
cessary apparatus. His expenses in procuring every 
kind of drawing or model which could represent the 
various parts of the human body, were greater than 
can be conceived by those who have not been inform- 
ed. The increase of his class keeping pace with the 
fame of the Professor, it was found impossible to de- 
monstrate to several hundred students at once, the 
structure of all the minute organs. He had recourse, 
therefore, to models, which gave an exact represen- 
tation of the small parts of the human structure on 
a magnified scale. This was not an original idea of 
Wistar; but he extended this mode of instruction so 
far beyond any thing which had been before practis- 
ed, and its effects, under his lessons, were so luminous 



24 

£nd happy, that we can scarce withhold from him the 
merit of invention. There was another peculiarity 
in his course of lectures, which should not pass un- 
noticed. The general class was divided into a num- 
ber of sub-classes, each of which he supplied, at his 
own expense, with materials for acquiring a thorough 
acquaintance with the human skeleton; a subject, 
which is allowed by all to be the foundation of 
anatomical knowledge. With all these advantages, a 
student, who diligently attended his lectures, could 

scarce fail to become an anatomist. 

He published a few years ago, a System of Ana- 
tomy adapted to the use of students^ the character of 
which, I shall give, in words better than *my own, 
obligingly communicated by a Professor of our medi- 
cal faculty.* " It is a model for an elementary work. 
The style is simple, plain, intelligible — the descrip- 
tions brief and accurate — the arrangement lucid, 
and the whole work altogether worthy of his talents. 
:e However numerous the writings of anatomists, I 
" have no hesitation in declaring this by far the most 
easily understood, and by far the best fitted for the 
purposes intended." 

* Doctor Dorsey, Professor of Materia Medica. 



<.(. 



cc 



25 

Anatomy has been so much studied both by the 
ancients and moderns, and so many excellent works 
have been published on the subject, that any discovery, 
at this time of day, was scarcely to be expected. Yet, 
it is supposed to be without doubt, that Wistar was 
the first who observed and described the posterior 
portion of the ethmoid bone in its most perfect state, 
viz. with the triangular bones attached to it Of this 
he has given an accurate description in the volume 
of our Transactions now in the press. On the sub- 
ject of that discovery he received, a few days before 
his death, a letter from Professor Soemmering, of the 
kingdom of Bavaria, one of the most celebrated ana- 
tomists in Europe, of which the following is an extract: 
* The neat specimen of the sphenoid and ethmoid 
bones, are an invaluable addition to my anatomical 
collection, having never seen them myself, in such 
" a perfect state. I shall now be very attentive to 
" examine these processes of the ethmoid bone in 
u children of two years of age, being fully persuaded 
" Mr. Bertin had never met with them of such a con- 
" siderable size, nor of such peculiar structure." 

By the class of medical students Wistar was uni- 
versally loved and respected. It has been said, that 
during the period of his lectures, they increased in 



Cf 



(C 



26 

number from one to five hundred. To ascribe this 
prodigious increase to him alone, would be doing 
injustice to the dead. Let me not adorn his recent 
grave with laurels torn from the tombs of others. 
But without violating that modesty which he loved, 
I may be permitted to say, that no individual contri- 
buted more than he, to raise the school to its present 
eminence. The institution, it must not be dissem- 
bled, has received a rude shock in the loss of this 
invaluable Professor And this reflection is the more 
serious, when we take a short retrospect. A few 
years have robbed us of Shippen, and Woodhouse, 
and Rush, and Barton, and Kuhn. And now Wistar 
is gone, the last of that old school, by whose labours 
the fabrick has been reared so high. But I do not 
despair. Our loss, although great, is not irreparable. 
Not that a Professor is to be expected, who can at 
once fill the vacant chair with all the splendour of his 
predecessor— but by treading in his footsteps, and fol- 
lowing his example, we may flatter ourselves, that 
ere long his successor will approach if not equal his 
excellence. Among the other Professors are still to be 
found unrivalled talents, and as a body, they merit and 
possess the public confidence. They will exert all 
their powers to keep the lead which has been taken 
in the medical field. 



21 

Far from their breasts be the ignoble passions of 
jealousy or envy. But every nerve must be strained 
in the noble race of generous emulation. Nor have 
we any fears for the event. They have the start, and, 
we trust, they will be first in at the goal. 

In December 1798, Wistar married the amiable 
lady who now laments his loss — Elizabeth Mifflin, 
niece of the late governor Mifflin. Of his first mar- 
riage there is no issue. In his last he was blessed 
with many children, only three of whom remain. 

In the year 1809, knowing the prejudices that 
obstructed the progress of vaccination, he suggested 
the plan of a society for circulating the benefit of that 
noble discovery which has immortalised Jenner. And 
in this he had the pleasure of finding himself second- 
ed by a number of public spirited gentlemen, who as- 
sociated themselves for that useful purpose — so great 
has been their success, that by their means, upwards 
of eleven thousand persons had been vaccinated in 
this city and liberties, and the district of Southward 
previous to their annual report in January last — nor 
is that all — for, encouraged by their examples the 
corporation have generously provided by law for the 
gratuitous vaccination of the poor in the city. 



« 



(C 



28 

In May 1810, he resigned his office of physician 
to the Hospital. In what estimation he was held by 
the managers, will best appear by their own resolu- 
tion, entered on their minutes. " The conclusion of 
" Dr. Wistar, to withdraw at the present time, was 
" unexpected and very much regretted by the mana- 
gers, who would have gladly embraced the oppor- 
tunity of giving to a long-tried, experienced, and 
" faithful practitioner, a further proof of their confi- 
(t dence in his skill and abilities, by re-electing him 
to the office he has filled more than sixteen years 
successively, with great reputation, if he had not 
c - prevented them, by declining to serve any longer. 
u Under these impressions, the managers reluctantly 
" part with Dr. Wistar, being thankful for his past ex- 
" ertions to serve the institution, and for his kind of- 
" fers to advise and assist, if there shall be any parti- 
" cular reason to require it, on any future occasion." 
In July 1794, he was appointed one of the cen- 
sors of "the College of Physicians," a very learned 
incorporated society — which office he retained to the 
time of his death, 

Having taken a view of his public and private ser- 
vices as a physician, let us now consider him as a 
man of general science and literature. His classical 
learning, gained at school, was much enlarged by 



29 

subsequent reading. He became an excellent scholar. 
The Latin, he understood so well, as occasionally to 
hold conversations in it. He acquired enough of the 
French language to converse without difficulty, and 
was well acquainted with the German. In the charac- 
ter of an accomplished physician, is combined a varie- 
ty of sciences. Anatomy was Wistar's fort, but he was 
well versed in Chymistry, Botany, Mineralogy, and 
History, in all its branches. As appurtenant to his pro- 
fession, he had reflected deeply on the human mind. 
Its connexion with the body, the manner of its being 
acted on by matter, and the cure of its maladies, he 
considered as desiderata in medicine. That these ob- 
jects had engaged much of his thought, is evident. 
For, when a student at Edinburgh, I find that he pro- 
posed questions concerning them, to Doctor Cullen; 
his Thesis, " de Animo Demisso," shows the same 
train of thinking, and in the last valedictory address 
to his pupils, he exhorts them to investigate the sub- 
ject, and to make themselves familiar with the writ- 
ings of Locke, Hartley, Priestley, and Reid. 

As an author, he has not left much behind him. 
He sometimes wrote anonymous essays, which w r ere 
published in the papers of the day, and others which 
had his signature, appeared in the Transactions of the 



30 

College of Physicians, and in the printed volumes of 
our Transactions. Among the latter is a paper in 
which are detailed some very curious experiments on 
the evaporation of ice. This subject has been since 
ably developed by others, but it is believed that Wis- 
tar was among the first who attracted to that object 
the attention of the public. His most considerable 
work is his system of Anatomy. Great literary works 
are not to be accomplished, without more leisure 
than is allowed to men engaged in extensive profes- 
sional business. Yet such persons may do much for 
the promotion of literature. And this was the case 
with Wistar. What he could himself, he did, and 
encouraged others to do more, who had more oppor- 
tunity. His ardent zeal for science made him anx- 
ious to promote it by all means and on all occasions. 
His house was open to men of learning, both citi- 
zens and strangers ; and there is no doubt that at the 
weekly meetings, which took place under his hospita- 
ble roof, were originated many plans for the advance- 
ment of science, which were afterwards carried into 
happy effect. In consequence of ill health, he had 
been for some years gradually retiring from the 
practice of medicine, and had his life been spared a 
little longer, he would probably have confined himself 



31 

to his lectures, and indulged those studies, which 
he loved, and for which he would then have found 
leisure. He had completed the Biography of his 
friend and colleague, Dr. Shippen, and had it in con- 
templation to write a Memoir on the life of the late 
professor Barton. He was industriously inquiring 
into the natural history of our western country, and 
had commenced a collection of subjects for the in- 
vestigation of Comparative Anatomy, to which he 
was incited by his friend Correa da Serra, whose 
name is identified with science both in Europe aad 
America. He had been accustomed to correspond 
with men of distinguished talents, both at home and 
abroad. Among these are found the names of Hum- 
boldt and Soemmering, in Germany; Camper, in Hol- 
land; Michaud, in France; Sylvester, in Geneva; Doc- 
tor Pole and Doctor Thomas C. Hope, in Great 
Britain; and in the United States, of the late presi- 
dent Jefferson, Correa da Serra, Warren, and most 
others conspicuous in literature. In 1815, he was 
elected an honorary member of the Literary and Phi- 
losophical Society of New York, and the same hon- 
our was conferred on him by other Literary Institu- 
tions. 



32 

In the year 1795, he was elected Vice-President 
of our society, and in 1815, on the resignation of Mr, 
Jefferson, he succeeded to the chair of his illustrious 
friend. I need not call to your recollection with what 
propriety, what decorum, what suavity of manners, 
he discharged the duties of this honourable station. 
Such was his courtesy, that he seemed anxious even 
to devest himself of that superiority, which the order 
of business rendered necessary. He was assiduous 
in attending committees. He was one of the first and 
most strenuous supporters of the Historical and Lite- 
rary Committee, instituted by the society about two 
years ago. With what ardour did he excite them to 
industry, in collecting, ere too late, the fleeting ma- 
terials of American history? The meetings of this 
committee he regularly attended. It was their cus- 
tom, after the business of the evening was conclu- 
ded, to enter into an unrestrained conversation on 
literary subjects. There, without intending it, our 
lamented friend would insensibly take the lead; and 
so interesting were his anecdotes, and so just his re- 
marks, that drawing close to the dying embers, we 
often forgot the lapse of time, until warned by the un- 
welcome clock, that we had entered on another day. 
To the business of the society in general, he was al- 



33 

ways attentive, and his zeal for its interest could not 
be surpassed. Considering his conduct in every point 
of view, I may truly say that he gave universal satis- 
faction. 

The understanding of Wistar was rather strong 
than brilliant. Truth was its object. His mind was 
patient of labour, curious in research, clear, although 
not rapid in perception, and sure in judgment. What 
is gained with toil is not easily lost. His informa- 
tion was remarkably accurate, and his tenacious 
memory held fast what it had once embraced. In 
youth he had given some time to poetry, and in 
maturer age he had not lost his taste for it. His fa- 
vourite poets were Pope and Milton. Among those of 
more modern date, he preferred Cowper and Burns. 
But the inclination of his genius was decidedly for 
graver studies. Of time, and nothing else, he was 
avaricious. As he rode in a carriage, he often read, 
and when confined by sickness, he was fond of 
being read to by his family. But on such occasions 
he chose his book, which was always on some useful 
subject. On its being once proposed to him to hear 
a celebrated novel which had just came out, he re- 
jected it, declaring, as he had often done before, that 
to listen to works of mere fiction, was little better 

E 



34 

than loss of time. He had ranged over most of the 
objects of nature, in all her varieties; but next to 
his profession, the subjects in which he seemed most 
to delight, were the history and productions of Ame- 
rica. To have been born an American, he esteemed 
a blessing, and to possess a knowledge of all her 
resources and advantages, seemed to him a duty 
which he owed to himself and his country. 

It remains to consider our deceased associate as 
a private citizen and a man. Public office he neither 
held nor sought, although enjoying the affection of 
him whose favour was fortune. This disinterested 
friendship does honour to both. To the liberty of his 
country he was firmly and warmly attached. Con- 
cerning the defence of liberty against foreign aggres- 
sion , there can be no difference of opinion. But when 
the question is, how best to preserve it by our own 
Institutions, we are agitated by frightful discord. In 
such circumstances, it is not only the right but the 
duty of every man to speak his sentiments with can- 
dour and firmness; never forgetting, that to err is 
human, and that he himself, or his friend who oppo- 
ses him may be mistaken, without blame. Such was 
the conduct of Wistar, who preserved his principles, 
without sacrificing his friendships. His opinion, on all 



35 

subjects, carried deserved weight. I owe it to can- 
dour, therefore, to say, that I have always understood 
he agreed in sentiment with those who have held the 
government, since the presidency of Mr. Adams. 
But the harmony in which he lived with friends of 
both parties, and the respect and affection which 
friends of both parties entertained for him, afford a 
memorable example, well worthy the serious reflec- 
tion of those who suppose that political intolerance 
is essential to political integrity. 

I turn with pleasure from the field of politics to 
objects of a more delightful nature; the piety, the 
goodness, the philanthropy of our lamented friend. 
Vain is the splendour of genius without the virtues 
of the heart. No man who is not good deserves the 
name of wise. In the language of scripture, folly and 
wickedness are the same; not only because vicious 
habits do really corrupt and darken the understand- 
ing, but because it is no small degree of folly to be 
ignorant that the chief good of man is to know the 
will of his Creator and do it. Wistar lived and died 
in the religious principles of those who have adopted 
the modest and endearing name of Friends. The 
people of this respectable society have preserved 
more of ancient simplicity in dress and manners, 



36 

than any among us. They once outnumbered all 
other religious societies in Pennsylvania. But al- 
though that has long ceased to be the case, yet, fortu- 
nately for us, they are still powerful enough to exert 
a silent influence, checking the overflowing tide of 
luxury, which threatens to deluge the land. 

It is difficult for a physician to be punctual in 
attendance on public worship. But if Wistar was not 
punctual, it was not because he was insensible of the 
duty, but because he was called by other duties to 
the assistance of his fellow mortals in another place. 
He, therefore, desired that his family should be re- 
gular in attendance at meeting, and he himself went 
when the situation of his patients permitted. In his 
devotion, as in every thing else, he was void of osten- 
tation. But that his mind dwelt much on that im- 
portant object, I can have no manner of doubt. When 
a youth, at Edinburgh, his friend, Dr. Charles Stew- 
art, made him a present of a neat edition of the Bible, 
in two small volumes. These he carefully preserved 
to the day of his death; and it was his custom, when 
he travelled, always to take one of them with him. 
This circumstance was well known to his children, 
the eldest of whom frequently accompanied him in 
his excursions, and could not fail to impress on their 



37 

tender minds, a veneration for the book which their 
father so highly prized. 

It has been asserted that the study of natural 
philosophy tends to infidelity and even to atheism. 
To plead the cause of philosophy before this society 
would be worse than waste of time. But as we are 
honoured with the presence of numerous strangers, it 
may not be improper to say a few words in answer 
to this popular objection. It is not foreign to my 
subject; because, if there be truth in the assertion, 
instead of recommending our late president, as an 
example worthy of imitation, we should point him out 
as a delusive meteor, whose false light might lead 
the unwary to the pit of destruction. I shall say but 
little; for were I to permit myself to enlarge on the 
boundless subject, I should soon exhaust my own 
strength and your patience. In the sacred scripture, 
the repository of the revealed will of the Deity, we 
find it written, that God has not left himself without 
ivitness among the heathen ; that is to say, his visible 
works bear witness to his existence and his attributes. 
And it is most true. The most barbarous nations 
are struck with the evidence, and acknowledge the 
existence of a power superior to man. But those 
stupendous works, which, in silent majesty, proclaim 



their Maker, do not disclose half their testimony to 
an ignorant observer. Nay, if not understood, there 
is danger of being misled by them. The untutored 
savage beholds the splendour of the sun, and perceives 
that from the warmth of its rays proceeds the growth 
of the innumerable vegetables which give beauty and 
comfort to the world. Ignorant of its nature, he con- 
siders it as an intelligent being, and worships it as a 
God. What would be his sensations, could the dark- 
ness of his mind be instantaneously illumined by phi- 
losophy ; how great his surprise at perceiving that this 
resplendent orb, the object of his adoration, was no 
more sensible than the brute earth on which he trod? 
With what astonishment, and gratitude, and awe, 
w 7 ould he contemplate that great Being who fixed the 
sun in his orbit, and clothed it with light? If we pass 
from the savage to civilized man, the effects of in- 
creased knowledge will be of the same nature. The 
most ignorant among us understand that the sun was 
created by God. To every one, therefore, it is a 
mighty witness of the existence and power of its 
Maker. But thousands and thousands see nothing 
in the sun, but the source of light and heat. Suppose 
now, their minds to be endowed with the knowledge 
of all its wonderful power — Suppose them to view it 



39 

as the centre round which revolve, in rapid and cease- 
less motion, the immense bodies which form the 
planetary system, all bound, by its attractive force, 
to one immutable path through the trackless void — 
Suppose them, moreover, to be informed, that the 
countless stars which bespangle the firmament, are 
probably other suns, enlightening and supporting 
other systems of inhabited worlds! — Suppose, I say, 
the mass of mankind to have ideas like these, would 
not the celestial bodies, to them, bear stronger testi- 
mony of the mighty God? And exactly the same 
argument is applicable to every thing animate and 
inanimate in this terrestrial globe — from intelligent 
man to the scarce moving shellfish — from the tower- 
ing oak to the twining ivy — from the sparkling dia- 
mond to the dusky coal — from the massy rock to the 
fine sand — from the troubled ocean to the glistening 
dew-drop — from the loud tornado to the whispering 
zephyr — whatever floats in air, or swims in water, 
or rests on its unfathomed bed — whatever flourishes 
on earttr's green surface, or lies hid in her capacious 
bosom — all the elements of matter, with their un- 
numbered varieties — all, all bear witness to their al- 
mighty Maker, and witness stronger and stronger as 
they are better and better understood — for every thing 



40 

is perfect, every thing miracle. How then can it be 
that as evidence increases faith should diminish? 
The thing is impossible. When the understanding is 
convinced, it is not in human power to withhold 
belief. But, it has been said, that the pride of man 
perverts his understanding — that, intoxicated with his 
own little discoveries, he forgets his Maker, and with 
the fool, says in his heart, there is no God. In the- 
ory this is not true; nor is it in fact. That there are 
melancholy instances of extraordinary intellect de- 
stroyed by intense study, is not to be denied. And 
candour would ascribe to that cause, the atheism at- 
tributed, perhaps unjustly, to a late celebrated French 
astronomer. But such cases are rare. On the con- 
trary, the instances are without number, where rea- 
son has maintained her seat, and the belief in God 
has been confirmed. To give the highest examples 
at once, I shall mention Newton in England, and our 
own Rittenhouse, whose minds the mighty Maker of 
the universe, seems to have touched with celestial 
fire, in order that they might unfold his works and 
render their testimony plain and irresistible. Nor 
is it true, that knowledge begets pride. This is proved 
by the two great men I have named, as remarkable 
for modesty as for depth of science. It is only the 



41 

half learned who are insolent. They are proud, be- 
cause they are ignorant. But the truly wise are most 
sensible of their own imperfection. They prostrate 
themselves before that supreme incomprehensible 
Being, whose nature the aching senses in vain en- 
deavour to penetrate; and, when it pleases him to re- 
veal himself, they receive with humility and gratitude 
those truths which human understanding could never 
have attained. Away then with the ungenerous 
aspersion, and let bigotry confess that the door of 
true philosophy opens directly into the temple of true 
religion. 

To Wistar, philosophy was the handmaid of reli- 
gion — she elevated bis soul and warmed his affec- 
tions. 

After loving God with all our heart, the next great 
commandment is to love our neighbour as ourself. 
Were I asked to point out the most prominent fea- 
ture in Wistar's character, I should answer, without 
hesitation, benevolence. It was a feeling which seems 
never to have forsaken him, beginning, as it ought, 
with his own family, and extending to the whole 
human race. Nor was it that useless sympathy which 
contents itself with its own sensations. His charity 
was active, his hand ever seconding the feelings of 



42 

his heart. Next to religious obligations, and the in- 
violable sanctity of truth, he impressed on the minds 
of his children the duty of abstaining from wounding 
the feelings of any human being. And he made 
them frequently repeat the precept of our Saviour, 
" love one another." Even his person gave evidence 
of philanthropy — his eye beamed good will, and his 
whole air brought strongly to my mind what Tacitus 
says, in his description of Agricola: "at first sight 
you would have believed him to be good, and wished 
him to be great." This ruling sentiment threw grace 
over his actions, and inspired his conversation with 
a charm. He never assumed — never displayed his 
own superiority. On the contrary, he led the con- 
versation to subjects in which others excelled. The 
pedantry of technical language he despised, and 
listened, with patience and politeness, to the obser- 
vations of inferior understanding. It has been ob- 
served that there is no book so dull but something 
good may be extracted from it. Wistar applied this 
principle to men, and possessed the remarkable talent 
of drawing from every one some useful information. 
From a young man, much attached to him, who had 
an opportunity of knowing him well,* I have received 

* Doctor Homer, who was employed by Dr. Wistar as an assistant 
in his Anatomical Lectures. 



43 

the following description. " He was one of the 
purest republicans, both in conduct and conversa- 
tion, that I have ever known. No one was ever 
sensible, by his conduct, of any difference of rank; 
" and as regards conversation, he was as careful not 
to oppress an ignorant neighbour by its abstruse- 
ness, as not to put an humble one out of counte- 
nance by an air of superiority." 
That the kindness of his manner had something 
uncommonly attractive, I can myself bear witness. 
My acquaintance with him commenced at a period 
of life when the heart no longer yields to the illusions 
of fancy. Yet, before I had time to be convinced of 
his goodness, I felt myself drawn towards him by an 
irresistible charm. I have taken pains to derive the 
character of this excellent man from authentic 
sources. One communication, from a very near 
female relation,* who knew his domestic habits, and 
even the secrets of his heart, I will give in the words 
I received it, which I should but injure by attempting 
to amend. " His domestic habits were uncommonly 
" mild and unassuming. Benevolence and charity 
" characterized all his actions. In the cause of his 
" friends he spared no exertion, either by day or by 

* Mrs. Bache, sister of Dr. Wistar. 



44 

cc night. His house was always open to them, and 
" the evening society, which frequently gathered 
" round him, was one of the greatest enjoyments of 
" his life. His extreme modesty makes it difficult to 
<c particularize any act of his which ought to be men- 
" tioned; for, although to do good was his ruling 
" passion, his particular acts were rarely known, 
" except to the persons immediately concerned. To 
" merit his services was the sure passport to obtain 
" them. In the cause of suffering humanity his feel- 
ings were always ardent. During his last illness, 
" he recommended to a friend the cause of the abo- 
" rigines of America; and the last sentence he was 
" heard to pronounce, was, ' I wish well to all man- 
" kind/ Disinterestedness characterized his life, 
" and it may be doubted whether so extensive a prac- 
" tice ever yielded so little emolument." 

On the death of Dr. Rush, Wistar succeeded him 
as president of the society for the abolition of slavery. 
The object of this society was congenial to his mind. 
Considering the situation of the southern states, the 
subject is delicate. But, certainly, the introduction 
of slavery into our country is an event deeply to be 
lamented, and every wise man must wish for its gra- 
dual abolition. 



a 



45 

For the Indians of America he seems to have 
felt a particular kindness. He admired their elo- 
quence, lamented their desolating wars, and earnest- 
ly sought for the means of meliorating their condi- 
tion. Having once inoculated an Indian woman for 
the small pox, her husband had fears for the event. 
Indeed there was some cause for fear, as the wo- 
man refused to submit to the proper regimen. The 
anxiety of the Doctor was extreme. She recovered; 
but until the danger was over, he declared, that on 
no occasion had he been more oppressed with the 
responsibility of his profession. 

The gratitude of Wistar was remarkable. Servi- 
ces done, or even intended, he always remembered; 
but injuries he was ready to forget. In a letter writ- 
ten at Edinburgh he declared, that he had determi- 
ned to forgive every thing to a friend or near rela- 
tion, and expressed his belief, that it would contri- 
bute greatly to happiness to extend forgiveness to 
every one. This sentiment gained strength with time, 
and at length ripened into a governing principle. 

To say such a man was a dutiful son, a kind 
brother, a most affectionate husband and parent, 
would be matter of supererogation. In the loss of 
his children he was peculiarly unfortunate. To those 



46 

who remained, he was passionately devoted. As the 
circle of affection lessened, its warmth increased. 

But had he no failings, no infirmities? Undoubt- 
edly he had, for he was a man. But I may truly 
say, that they fell not under my observation, and I 
trust I shall be excused if I have not been anxious 
to search for them. 

His health, during the few last years, was inter- 
rupted by several alarming attacks. He was subject 
to great irregularities of pulse, and there were strong 
symptoms of disorder in the chest, A collection of 
water was apprehended. But the fact was, that a 
small ossification had taken place between two of 
the semi-lunar valves of the aorta. About the 14th of 
January last, he was seized with a malignant fever 
attended with symptoms of typhus. Art proved una- 
vailing, and he sunk under the disease, after an 
illness of eight days.* 

We have lost him in the strength of life and vig- 
our of intellect — too soon indeed for his family and 
his country; but not too soon for his own happiness 
or fame. For, honourable age is not that which is 
measured by length of time, or counted by number of 
days. But wisdom is the gray hair unto man, and un- 

* Dr. Wistar died, 22nd January, 1818. 



47 

spotted character is fulness of years. Protracted life 
would have been embittered by bodily pain— the 
frailties of nature might have dimmed the lustre of 
brighter years — or death, which had spared him, 
might have desolated his house, and left him solita- 
ry and cheerless to encounter the infirmities of age. 
Happy then wert thou, Wistar, in death as well as 
life. Thy work is done — thou art gone to receive 
thy reward. Thou diedst in the full career of use- 
fulness and fame — thy heart overflowing with chari- 
ty — surrounded by friends, loving and beloved. Do- 
mestic affection watched over thy pillow, and thy 
parting looks rested on the objects dearest to thy 
soul. Death hath affixed to thy character the seal 
not intrusted to mortal hands. What though the 
strict equality of thy religious society forbid thy un- 
distinguished ashes to be marked by even a modest 
stone, yet shall the good hold thy virtues long in re- 
membrance, and Science write thy name in her im- 
perishable roll. The last generous emotion of thy 
benignant spirit, shall be reciprocated. All man- 
kind shall wish happiness to him, who dying, wish- 
ed happiness to all. 



